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A'0£C29I892 

' G T O N » O • 


■ 4 4 


UNCLE PLENTY.” 




BY 


CLARA LE CLERC. 

%■ ' 

V V ^ V 





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" Here lies the noblest man, with the truest, most loyal heart that ever beat, if it did beat 

in a black breast, ‘ my faithful Plenty.’ ” 

— “MARS WILL” 


FORT WORTH : 

TEXAS PRINTING AND LITHOGRAPHING CO. 
1892. 


COPYRIGHT 1892. 

By Henrie Clay Ligon Gorman, M. A. 
Nom de plume ^ Clara Le Clerc. 

All rights reserved. 


DEDICATION 


- TO DEAR^ IDOLIZED ^^MARS WILL,” 

AND 

TO HIS NOBLE, FAITHFUL UNCLE PLENTY,” WHO^y. 
TOGETHER FROM THEIR ‘^SPIRIT HOME,” 

HAVE SO FAR AS HAS BEEN GRANTED THEM THK 

POWER GUARDED THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE 

WRITER THROUGH HER VARIED LIFE SCENES, 

THIS LITTLE WORD PAINTING FROM MEMORy’s WALL 
IS MOST LOVINGLY CONSECRATED. 

Fort Worth, Texas, Nov. 22, 1892. 




Author.^ 


LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. 


‘^Hist! Mars Will, is you dar?’’ Cover Page. 

“ Mistus, please let Plenty shake hands wid you ! 
‘^Ride me faster, Unke ’Nough! Ride me heap faster! 
‘‘Hello! Mars Yank! putty hongry, ain’t you? 

“And on that bed? — Uncle Plenty! our Uncle Plenty?” 


PREFACE. 


My friends, who have known for years of my dips into literature, may think it strange 
that, from the many packages of manuscript which have accumulated beneath the strokes of 
my erratic pencil, — I should select Uncle Plenty” to place before the public as my first 
book, or rather pamphlet, as it will be no more than one. 

But there are several reasons for so doing. The first — those who are nearest to me have 
repeatedly urged that Uncle Plenty” should be so honored. The second — the ‘‘ old time” 
faithful servant, the character once so dear to every Southern home, has almost passed into 
oblivion. Now and then we meet with one of the genuine, faithful ones, who speaks with 
glistening eyes and a quiver in the voice of the dear old home, before Freedom Cried OiitF 
When Ole Mars” and Ole Miss” were the dearest, the most perfect and all powerful of 
beings. But they are rapidly passing away, and it is in order to perpetuate their virtues, so 
that, in the coming years, those following in our footsteps may know the truth of the relation 
between masters and servants in the good old days, we give our simple story to the public. 
The third, and best reason of all — Uncle Plenty” is no fictitious character. Every word in 
the little sketch is true, and not the half told. Volumes could be written concerning the 
many noble and faithful deeds of our dear old Uncle Plenty,” but the writer has only jotted 
down a very few that stood out clear and bright, making vivid life-paintings upon the walls of 
“ Memory’s Picture Gallery.” 

CLARA LE CLERC. 

Nov. 22, ’92 




“UNCIvE PLENTY. ” 


A truer, nobler, trustier heart, 
More loving or more loyal, never beat 
Within a human breast.” 


PEOLOGUE. 


HE glory of a golden summer sunset lay over tlie earth. 

The snn had just gone down ” behind a fleecy mountain 
cloud and kindled a volcanic Are, which painted the heavens 
with a varied glory of gorgeous hues. The song of the mock- 
ing bird still rang from the downy nests in the peach trees. 
J Afar in the East ‘^the moon had dipped her horn,’’ and just 
w beneath the evening star glimmered like a jewel in the dark- 
ening azure. It was that bewitching hour when day and night seem 
blended; the dim, sweet twilight was slowly stealing on, wrapping all 
nature in a mystic purple dusk, and the cool South breeze came laden 
with the fragrance of many flowers. ? 

Gathered on the lawn, admiring the beauties of the lovely sunset, 
and inhaling the fragrant breeze as it rustled the honeysuckle vines, was 
a group of twelve or fifteen persons, young and middle-aged. 


10 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


As is customary in nearly all Southern homes, benches and chairs 
were scattered here and there under the trees, and some sat and chatted, 
while others strolled here and there, commenting upon the topics of the 
day. By and by the conversation seemed turned in a different channel 
entirely, caused by the simple incident of an aged negro woman passing 
on the sidewalk. Evenin’ masrter; evenin’ mistus! ” 

How dye do. Aunt Jane? I am glad to see you able to be out again. 
Have you entirely recovered? ” answered the lady of the house. Yes, 
Mistus, bress de Lord! ” 

^^Any one would know that Mrs. Gordon was a Southern woman ! ” 
exclaimed one of the party. For my part, I have no use for tlie colored 
race; in fact, cannot bear to have them near me! ” 

^^And yet, your side fought o%Lrs for the sole cause of freeing the 
^poor down-trodden and oppressed slave of the South’!” spoke up the same 
little woman, with her eyes kindling and her plain face lighting up. 

^^Now, Mrs. Gordon, I was entirely too young to know or care any- 
thing about the whole affair; but I’ll say this much, I’d love the South a 
thousand times better if there was’nt a single nigger in the whole length 
and breadth of her sunny lands.” 

I’ll admit that the darkies of to-day are not the darkies of twenty 
or twenty-five years ago,” spoke a gentleman of the group, who had at 
one time been a noted Southern planter. Our people were humble^ 
good, trusty and obedient; their wants were all supplied; they were as 
happy and care-free as little children. hMarster and Mistus’ were the 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


11 


Alpha and Omega with them. If they had a joy, ^ Mars and Miss’ must 
share it; if they had a care or sorrow, the same ones were appealed to as 
being able and willing to bear all the burden. I think the race before the 
year ’61 the happiest and most care-free on the globe.” 

^^Yes, but they have no feeling — they have no lasting affection. I 
have always believed that ingratitude was and is the predominating 
characteristic of the negro race. We had too many instances of that 
during the late war.” And the speaker looked round on the group as 
if fully convinced that no one could deny the charge. 

Before the reply, which was trembing on Mrs. Gordon’s lips, could 
be uttered, a lady, almost a stranger and of English birth, ■ exclaimed. 

What did they have to be grateful for? If one half I heard when I first 
landed in the United States is true, why, no one could censure them for 
ingratitude ! ” 

^^Ah ! but you landed in the orth. Jirsty Imvhit you changed your 
opinion somewhat since living among us of the South?” 

Well, yes. I’ll admit I have. I told my sister that I Jiad begun to 
believe that the Southern people were a slandered people, as I had heard 
many speak of their old servants so kindly and affectionately.” 

‘^1 know no better way to disabuse Mr. Jarvis of his ideas of the ingrat- 
itude of the negro, and you of your idea of the little cause they had for 
gratitude, than by telling you a story about one of our own servants.” 

^^Oh, a story! one of Mrs. Gordon’s stories?” 

^^Ah!” exclaimed another, ‘^You have not told us a story since we^ 


12 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


were in school,’^ and all gathered around, old and young, to hear the story 
of 

UNCLE PLENTY.’’ 

In order that you may understand several points as they appear in 
n^ story. I’ll begin at the beginning and tell you how Uncle Plenty” 
first came to us. 

Of course, it happened years ago, when we lived in our dear old 
Georgia. I remember as well as if it were yesterday, how my father 
walked into the sitting room one day and said to my mother: 

I must leave here directly after dinner, mother^ as Mr. Barton,” a 
great client of my father’s, ‘‘has lost everything in the world. There will 
be a public sale to-morrow, and he wishes me to be on the spot to help 
him out all I can. I told him he was putting his head in the lion’s mouth 
when he put his name to Darnell’s paper ; now he has shipped the coun- 
try and poor Jem has to bear the whole burden!” 

We all know how many true and tried friends have been left in the 
lurch by “standing security” for others. Well, this was ^^imply another 
instance, and my father felt grieved for his old friend and client. He 
talked earnestly with mother before he left, and I heard him say: “Best 
assured, I shall do all I can, to help him,” as he kissed her goodbye. 

“ Thafs just like father; it would not astonish me if he came home 
with half a dozen new darkies ; and what to do with them I would not 
know, as we certainly have enough about the house now. We will have 
to wait and see; as he will act for the best in every way, I am sure.” 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


13 


Two days later my father returned at twilight. We were all gathered 
:around our mother in the sitting room ; and she was answering some of 
Ihe younger children’s questions as to the time ^^papa would come,” when 
we heard a buggy stop at the gate and his familiar ^^Whoa!” and the next 
moment his call, ^^Jacob!” then uncle Jake’s answer, ^^yes. Mars Will!” 

^^Eub Charlie down w^ell, and do not give him much water at first; 
let him have it by degrees ; and J acob, no oats ; remember that ! Master’s 
faithful old Charlie must not get laid by from his long, hot drive.” 

Of course, we all rushed out, pell-mell, to meet him; and the boys, 
:after a kiss, scrambled into the buggy and begged to drive ^^Charlie round 
to the stables.” 

'^^Gently, my boys, as old Charlie is very tired. I wish I had driven 
Black Bess, Charlie is getting too old for such jaunts;” and then the cav 
alcade passed round the corner toward the ^^back lot,” with white-haired 
Uncle Jacob walking beside Charlie and my two brothers laughing and 
•chatting in the buggy. 

As my father passed up the walk, I clung to his hand and cast curi- 
ous glances at the being wUo accompanied him, carrying his valise. Fath- 
er entered the sitting-room, followed by the bearer of his valise, and as 
he greeted my mother with a kiss, exclaimed cheerfully; ^^Well, here w^e 
are! Plenty! this is your new mistress. Miss Matt! JS’ow, tell her all 
-ubout it!” 

At these words, the figure just behind my father, placed the valise, 
:and his hat- which he had removed as ho entered the house, upon the car- 


14 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


pet, and approaclied close to my mother. : ‘/Mistus, please let Plenty 
shake hands wid yon! ’’ 

And as mother placed her delicate white hand in the great horny black 
palm, he placed his left hand over it; and while his voice shook with emo- 
tion,and two great tears rolled down his ebon cheeks, he exclaimed: 

^^God bress yon, Mistns, yon an’ Mars Will, an’ all yonr little nns. 
I thank God dat I have yon two fnr my owners; an’ Mars Will say I 
inns’ tell yon how it happen’d. Well, me and my ole ’oman Jnle, my boy,, 
yonng Plenty — -the only chile we has, — was ole Marsters and ole Mistns 
house sarbants ; dat is, my J ale am ^ black mammy ’ to de yonng nns ; and 
yonng Plenty was dinin’ room boy, while I was gyardener. Well, me and 
mv ole ’oman talks it all ober, kase we is very valuable, indeed; for I 
hearn Mars Jem tell Mistns ef he conld only raise three or four thousand 
he conld keep his little place jes’ eight mile from here, and also buy in 
three or four of the likely liel’ ban’s to rnn it. Ent whar to git de mon- 
ey to do dat, he did not know; fnr in all dey talk, I conld hear dat Mam 
Jnle, Plenty, an’ yonng Plenty inns’ be kept ef possible. We’ll git Knn- 
nel Logan to buy nm in fnr ns; him an’ Brn’er Storey will bof be here,an’‘ 
I knows ’ll hep ns out!’ I hearn ’em say; so I goes to Mars Jem, an’ 
say, sez I: ‘Mars Jem yon knows I Inbs yon, kase we was boys togedder; 
but Mars Jem, yon’d better let ole an’ yonng Plenty go; kase why? Kase- 
we’ll brnng lots of money and hep yon onten dis scrape bettern ’an any 
one else.’ 

At fnst, he vow he wonld’nt hear to it. ‘Ko, Plenty,’ say he, ‘I^d 




MISTUS, PLEASE LET PLENTY SHAKE HANDS WID YOU I 





UNCLE PLENTY. 


17 


rudder go in de iiel’ and make a han’ mysef, dan let you go, or separate you 
from your wife; h\v you knows we could neber do widout Mam Jule, eben 
ef we could manage to ’zist widout you.’ 

Well, Mistus, I ’suaded, an’ suaded^ tell I git him in de notion at 
las’! 

I tell him, me an’ Jule an’ young Plenty done talk it ober; an’ dat ef 
Mars Will Logan buy me, an’ Mars Jemes Storey buy young Plenty, we 
dun satisfied; kase w^e knows dem' men; deys good men an’ good Marsters; 
an’ we would be so close to de little place, dat we could see de ole ’oman 
and home fokes ebery now an’ den. So I sets mysef to watch fur Mars 
Will; kase we all knows an’ lubs him; we is know^ed him so long; an’ 
bime by, wdien I sees ole Charlie cornin’ rpun’ de ben’ in de road, I 
hardly git my bref, my heart fiutter so. 

I gits Mars Will off and tells my plan and axes him to buy Jule in 
fur Mars Jem; ’bout dat time, up cum Mars Jemes Storey, an’ den Mars. 
Will tell him de whole plan, an’ it wuck like a charm; an’ now I’s yoxir 
darkey, and young Plenty ’longs to Mars Storey; while Jule stays long 
’er old Mars an’ Miss. An’ now Mars Will an’ Miss Matt, Plenty am your 
grateful sarbant foreber. Jes, try me an’ see ef I don’t prove by my 
wucks what I say I is. I ken neber do too much to show how bery grate- 
ful I is fur your kin’ness in buyin’ ole Plenty!” 

Never shall I forget the picture! The soft lamp-light fell over the 
whole, lighting up my mother’s beautiful face, as amid smiles and tears 
she listened to his story ; father, with his pale face and great brown eyes. 


18 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


was positively handsome, so perfectly satisfied was lie with his good work^ 

But ^‘Uncle Plenty!” We children stood around and gazed in a'yve at 
the great giant; for giant he seemed to us. He was a perfect Her-^ 
cules I 

Our delicate, slender father, although six feet in height, seemed a- 
perfect child by his side. Six feet, eight, at the very least; massive limbs ;, 
such shoulders and chest, I never saw; and with the grandest, most rug- 
ged face, lighted with great dark eyes, almost brown, quite a heavy mus- 
tache, and the whitest of white teeth ; a magnificent head with the hair cut 
close to the skin. We gazed in sileiice; he was the first to break the spell,, 
as he raised my mother’s hand and kissed it like some knight of old, vow- 
ing allegiance to his sovereign ; and then with a smile breaking over his 
face, he turned to us and held out both hands: ' ^^Come tell Unke Plenty 
howdye, little misses and marsters!” We each one came and placed our 
hands in his. Linda, the nurse, stood near with our baby sister in her- 
arms, and the little one would peep at him, then hide her little head on 
Linda’s shoulder. ‘^Come ’long huney, come to IJnke Plenty!” and she- 
stretched out her chubby baby arms, with a happy chuckle, and clasped 
them both round his great ebon neck! 

‘^Dat’s right, huney, Unke Plenty lubs all de babies, an’ all de babies^ 
lub Unke Plenty!” 

From that minute, of that first night, on to the end^ Uncle Plenty’s* 
reign was firmly established. 

And by and by, when a little brother came, who only remained in 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


19 ' 


this earth -life, one short year and two months, Uncle Plenty’s were the-' 
arms that helped hear him to and frO', in the long night watches, togeth- 
er with our father and mother; and when he left us for the Spirit shore^ 
Uncle Plenty’s were the arms that bore the little casket— after our father 
had placed the baby form within — to the waiting carriage ; and old Char- 
lie carried it to the grave ; our parents bearing the little casket on their 
knees, with Uncle Plenty walking by the carriage side. * * * 

His chief care was the garden, flower.-^yard, and the orchard. Oh,, 
such wonderful vegetables, flowers, fruits and berries grew under his skill- 
ful management! 

Cherry and Dunn, our two lovely English cows, grew to know him 
and rub their pretty heads against his huge form; and Uncle Jake grew^ 
quite jealous, because the horses learned to love Uncle Plenty better than 
they loved him ; as he had been coachman for years. But every dumU 
thing ran to him for kindness and caresses. 

Often his merry games, and romps with. the children drew my father 
and mother to the veranda to watch the fun; Uncle Plenty racing and^ 
tearing up and down the broad garden walks, Myrnie perched upon his 
shoulders, our two brothers. Bates and Will, acting as drivers, each hold- , 
ing one end of the long cord, w^hich Uncle Plenty held between his teeth.. 
At such times, enjoying the mad frolic in her own peculiar way, little Hin- 
da, our dignifled princess, would stand safely out of the way, on the broad 
garden walk, her little hands crossed behind her; her great hazel eyes, 
lighting up with merriment, while now and then a merry, gleeful peal. 


^0 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


would ring from her parted lips, as Myrnie’s little baby hands clutched 
tighter about her ^^horsie’s’’ neck and she ponnded the sturdy shoulder with 
her little heels, while she cried in baby gleej ^^Kide ^me faster, Unke 
^ Nought ride me heap faster!’’ ■ ' 

She called him ^^Unke ’l^ough” for years, thinking, I suppose, if 
Plenty meant Enough^ one word answered just as well as another. 

Qy \1/ O/ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

yfc 

By and by, in my sixteenth year, the happy quiet of our lives was 
broken by storm-clouds of war; and many near and dear to uS, Joined our 
brave soldier boys. Again and again our father went before the board of 
^Examining Surgeons,” hoping each time that he might be permitted to 
join the army; but each time the words ^^Unfit for Service,” sent him 
home to us in despair. 

Time passed on, — one, two years, — and then the message came that 
■one, dear to us, was in Richmond ill, suffering; and our father prepared 
to go after him. He called the household around him, and with tears, 
bade all good-bye, saying: 

^^Plenty, I leave all that I hold dear, in this world, in your charge; 
guard them with your life!” Then turning to my old nurse, added: 

^^Anice, I know you will be faithful to the trust, also!” 

They clung to his hands, those two dear, brave servants, and amid 
tears and sobs told him to trust us to their care. 

And nobly they fulfilled their trust. 

Two weeks — three, passed, and no message from our father. We were 






RIDE ME FASTER, UNKE ^NOUGH ! RIDE ME HEAP FASTER 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


23 


nearly crazed ! At the end of that time, the one for whom father had 
made the venture, came home on furlough — sick leave; and had neither 
seen nor heard a word of Cousin Logan.” The morning after his re- 
turn, Uncle Plenty came quietly and deferentially to the sitting room 
door, dressed as if for a journey, and carrying a little traveling satchel in 
his hand. 

Miss Matt, may I speak wid you fur a minute?” Certainly, Uncle 
Plenty.” 

^‘Miss Matt, sence Mars Rob ’s here to Tect you an’ de chiriun, I is 
gwin to hunt Mars Will; dat is wid your ’mission. Miss Matt. Fac is, I 
can’t stan’ it no longer. I’s mouty oneasy ’bout him.” 

God bless you. Plenty; yes, go ! Wait, let me get you some money, 
and give you a pass.” 

I ’s got plenty ob my own, Mistus, an’ you an’ de little fokes mout 
need dat ’fore we gits back.” 

But mother pressed a roll of bills, together with his pass, into his 
hand, and amid our tears our good, faithful Plenty started on his search 
for our father. And he found him, after long, weary days of search, sick 
almost unto death with pneumonia, in a hotel in Richmond, unconscious 
and neglected ; and he nursed him hack to life^ hut never to health again^ 
and as soon as he was able to travel brought him back to us. Ah, what 
a wreck! Never again,' for the six years he remained with us, was he 
over free from suffering. Uncle Plenty watched over him as a father 
watches over a child, carrying him in his strong arms wherever he ex- 


24 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


pressed a wish to go, upstairs or down, on the veranda, on the lawn. It 
was Plenty here. Plenty there, and Plenty was always bright, willing and 
cheerful ! 

At last our brother, not yet fifteen, entered the service, and fought 
till the close of the war. The enemy invaded our town and fought around 
us. We lived in fear and trembling. At night the cry,^^ Would God it were 
morning;’’ and at day -dawn, Would God it were night.” Everything 
we possessed of value was placed in a Japanese box; and all our money. 
Confederate bills, in a fiour sack, as everything on earth that could be 
converted into money had been sold for enormous sums, which, of course^ 
proved as worthless as the paper upon which it was written. So you can 
easily understand how it was we were so destitute at the termination of 
the struggle. Home, lands, horses, everything gone, for a two -bushel sack 
of Confederate money ! Then father called Uncle Plenty to him. 

Here, Plenty, old man, is a box containing the most valuable things 
we have; also, a bag of Confederate money, take them and go! When all 
danger is over, come back to us.” 

Yes, Mars Will. God ’tect you all. Mars Will!” and two great tears 
plashed down and mingled with the kiss Uncle Plenty left upon that poor^ 
frail hand. Then w^e saw him no more for a long time. We could hear 
the firing; see the dash of the blue coats and gray, wring our hands and 
cry: Oh, God! when will this end ! ” For one week the suspense lasted; 
then the boys in gray marched their prisoners in blue through the town,, 
and the wounded of both sides found a resting place in our dear old Col- 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


25 


lege, my Alma Mater, which was given up by onr noble President for a 
Hospital. 

How and then some anxious friend would say, Plenty got back yety 
Colonel?” Ho, not yet,” father would answer; and one, an irascible old 
Kentuckian, who had refugeed to our place, would snarl, Ho, and he 
won't be back next time! YouVe seen your last of Plenty and your valu- 
ables!” 

‘‘1 would trust Plenty with my life,” would be father’s answer. 

^^More fool, you!” would be the growling reply. 

One night, just ten days after Uncle Plenty had left us, we were 
gathered in the sitting room, talking in the twilight over the events of 
the past week, when my father held up his hand, with the exclamation, 
^^Hush!” 

Slowly, quietly, almost fearfully, as it were, footsteps crept through 
the hall and paused at the sitting-roorii door, while a massive head was. 
thrust cautiously in, and a well known voice, pitched to the lowest whis- 
per, reached our ears. ^^Hist ! Mars Will, Mars Will^ is you dar ? ” 

Yes, Plenty, come in; all is well!” 

Press God fur dat!” and coming forward he placed the box and 
sack at my father’s feet, and caught both the frail white hands extended 
to him. 

Oh, Mars Will, I’s ’joiced at dis\ I is so glad to see you all 
agin!” 

Old man, come, come! We are all delighted to see you;” for by 


26 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


this time the younger- children were clinging about his neck, and mother 
^ind myself were standing near with words of welcome on our lips and 
tears of joy in our eyes. 

Sit down, here hy me^ and tell us how you managed. We have been 
■SO worried to think you left without any provisions. I shall never for- 
give myself for my carelessness in forgetting; but you must remember 
that your master is no longer what he was; sickness and suffering have 
made him very forgetful.’’ 

Don’t you worry ’bout dat; don’t worry ’bout dat; ’deed you ’s got 
no ’casion to do so. Mars Will. Kase why? I was here in dis house 
obery bressed night, ’tecting of you all!” 

^^Why, Plenty! How could that be possible?” And father lifted 
himself out of his chair in his great excitement. 

^^You jis’ keep still. Mars Will, an’ I tells you all ’bout it!” And 
Uncle Plenty placed him gently back in his invalid chair. 

Course, you’ll want to know whar I went fus’, — to de swamp^ oh 
course y dar I hide de box an’ bag ; an’ Mars Will, dey axchually fit an’ 
font all roun’ me an’ ober me, kase I hid under some logs ; but bress 
Ood, not a hyar ob my head was singed. Den, when night would come, 
dars not a painter nor wile cat wat eber crep frou de swamp dat could 
beat ‘ Plenty ’ gittin’ ’bout ; so ebery night, ’bout midnight, I git here ; 
-creep all roun’ to see how de Ian’ lay ; and den go down basement fur 
•sum ’visions, as I’d be putty monstrous liongry by dat time ; an’ I was 
kinder oneasy to take any wid me ; kase you all mout hab to stan’ a long 




HELLO, MARS YANk! PUTTY HONGRY, AIn’t YOU ? 




UNCLE PLENTY. 


29 


spell ob de blue coats ; bow’d I know ? But one nite I did take a bite ob 
a snac’ back wid me, and I jis’ recon de good Lord made me, fur nex’ day 
an’ night dey was a huntin’ of de pore wounded fellers what had hid away 
in de swamp rudder dan be pris’ners ; and all de time dey was a huntin’ 
dey jis’ walk obor me, an’ bime by, when ’um was gone, I hearn a groan, 
an’ a weak voice, sayin’, ^ Oh, good Lord, ef I was only home once more,, 
I’d neber fight no more ! An’ peepin’ roun’ frou de logs I sees a pore 
haf starve young boy like, dress in blue, jis’ ’bout same age as our own 
young Mars Bates, an’ I feel so sorry fur him ; I kinder whisper like^ 
^ Hello, Mars Yank! putty hongry, ain’t you? ^My God, who you?’ 
he say. ^Keb, like my marster, but friend to you all de same, kase I know 
he’d be one in your case ; as we’s got our boy jis’ ’bout like you is in our 
army.’ An’ I rech ober an’ gie him de ’visions, an’ he say : ^ Ole man, I 
’gins to think dat dis wah am all a mity mistake.’ ‘Yes, sah, glad to 
know you is all cornin’ to your senses, sah ; hope to gracious dat things 
’ll come to a close ’fore long, as I wants my young Mars home, an’ want 
to see my Mars Will his ole sef agin.’ Well, I fed him two days, an’ ho 
gits better, an’ I ’vised him to guv hiself up like a man; kase Southern 
genimen treat him right, an’ he did, an’ walked off chipper as a bird, wid 
de capen, what cum wid his men. So den I thought I mout come too, an’' 
so here I is!” 

As time passed, and our father grew weaker and more confined to his 
chair. Uncle Plenty seemed to study every look and tone; he contrived 


so 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


many tilings out of almost nothing, for all of us — for times were fearful; 
.and again and again we wondered what the end would be. 

At last it came! Our gallant Lee’s surrender, and our poor father 
wept like a child; and reaching out his weak and trembling arms, ex- 
claimed: ‘^Put me on the bed. Plenty, I cannot hold up my head!” 

After being placed there he said : 

^^Go, call all the servants in. Plenty; I want to talk to you all.” 

They came and gathered round the bed and gazed tearfully at father. 
With a mighty effort he controlled his voice and addressed them: 

^Aly good Anice, and my faithful Plenty; and all the rest of you, — 
ou^ cause is lost^ the Confederacy is dead; my heart is hrohen! You, my 
good faithful servants, are no longer in bondage; you are free\ free as I 
am; as your mistress or any one. If I were able, I would offer good 
homes and good wages to each and all of you. But alas! Mars AYill 
is almost a beggar; he can no longer take care of himself; he is de- 
pendent on this child for his welfare now and in the future!” And as 
he spoke he placed his trembling hand upon my shoulder, as I sat on 
the side of his bed. I caught the weak fingers and gently stroked them, 
as he continued: only wanted to thank you one and all, for your faith- 

fulness to me and mine, all these years, and to tell you that wherever you 
may go. Mars Will will think lovingly and kindly of each one of you to 
the end. Yow, goodbye!” 

Oil, what a wail went up from those dusky throats, as throwing tliem- 
selves upon their knees, they prayed him to let them stay. 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


31 


Don’t send ns away, don’t send ns away; let ns stay and work for yon 
and Miss Matt! We don’t want freedom; we wants only to stay wid yon!” 
And Uncle Plenty bending over the bed, clasped father’s head in his great 
horny palms, and kissing his broad, white brow, sobbed like a child. 

•^Alars Will, Mars Will, no, no; neber will Plenty lebe yon; yon has 
mo’ need ob Plenty now^ dan yon eber did ; and Plenty will neber lebe 
yon!” While my old nurse, Anice, canght me in her arms and wailed: 

^^Do widont my baby? Never, Mars Will! I can’t leave any of yon, 
least of all my oldest white baby!” 

So that settled it; and they remained; and among them they worked 
wonders. 

Uncle Plenty sold vegetables and fruit, milk and butter; ran an ex- 
press wagon, and came in regularly every night, and placed his earnings 
in father’s hands. Often father would press part of the money into his 
hard palm; he would say nothing, but quietly drop it into a tiny basket on 
the mantel. The others found time to do washing for the many stran- 
gers who flooded the town; and matters worked on quietly and smoothly 
for a year. Every Saturday Uncle Plenty would dress in his best; come 
in, bid us goodbye, take his seat in the buggy, gather up the reins, and 
away to Mars Jeemes Storey’s for ^A'^oung Plenty,” for, strange to say, 
neither of them could be induced to leave the two good men, who had 
succored them and their old master in his time of need — and then off to 
the ^dittle place” to see ^Mule,” for she likewise clung to her old owners. 
There they would remain till Monday morning; then home again bright 


32 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


and early; for another week’s work. One Monday morning — shall I ever 
forget it? — seven o’clock came, and no ^^Uncle Plenty!” Eight o’clock 
and still no ^‘ITncle Plenty!” My father, in his anxiety, had ns wheel 
his invalid chair on to the veranda; mother stood near; I, with my hat 
on, ready for school, for I had then been teaching for three years, leaned 
against one of the pillars, gazing np the street ; a queer, nneasy feeling tug- 
ging at my heart strings. I feared, I knew not what, snch a thought as 
Uncle Plenty proving disloyal never entered our heads or hearts. ^^Some- 
thing is the matter!” ^^Something has happened!” again and again- 
repeated our father and mother. The children also, ready for school, had 
gathered at the gate and watched anxiously; for such a thing had never 
happened before. 

^^How I wish he would come! ” I exclaimed at last, ^^for I must leave 
at half -past eight, and I know it will nearly break the children’s hearts to 
go to school for the day without seeing Uncle Plenty!” 

I had been uneasy for some time past, as the whole country was 
infested with quite a lawless tribe, white and black — bushwhackers ” 
they were called. 

At last, one of the children announced, ^‘1 see the buggy!” I 
strained my eyes; sure enough, away down the street the pony, all we 
then possessed of the once handsome four, came tearing along in a cloud 
of dust; but was that ^^Uncle Plenty ” driving ? He swayed to and fro 
like a drunken man, and as the buggy drew nearer we saw — not Uncle 
Plenty” — but his son, young Plenty,” so like his father. He threw 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


33 


himself from the hnggy, and not waiting to fasten the pony, came stag- 
gering np the w^alk, the children following in wonder and amazement. 
His hat was gone; his eyes rolled in their sockets, and his face was 
ashen gray! Throwing himself at father’s feet and catching his hands^, 
he cried in a most heart-rending voice : 

^^Oh, Mars Will! Daddy’s dyin’, an’ wants yon! ” 

^^My God! Mother, quick, my hat!” And he raised himself on his 
cane, eager, trembling, tears filling his great brown eyes. 

As mother placed his hat on his head he reached out his arms like a 
child towards Young Plenty,” who caught him up easily and carefully, 
and bore him to the buggy, my father calling to us, ^^Come right on, 
mother, you and daughter!” 

They were soon out of sight, father’s head resting on young Plenty’s 
shoulder. 

Pemaining only to still the cries of the children, and to charge Linda 
and Anice to take good care of them, then catching up a bonnet from the 
rack in the hall, mother and I soon started, running part of the way, and. 
stopping now and then to draw a long breath and wonder how it hap- 
pened. At last we reached the place. A doctor’s buggy stood before the 
gate, together with our own. We hastened round the house to the neat 
room that Young Plenty” occupied, and as we reached the door we came 
upon a picture which has remained indelibly impressed upon heart and 
mind ever since. The doors and windows stood wide open; several chairs 
and a small table were arranged over the spotless fioor. Between the twa 


34 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


doors, with the dancing shadows cast, by the bright morning sunlight as 
it filtered through the quivering branches of the oak near by, stood a 
snow-white single bed, and on that bed Uncle Plenty^ our Uncle Plenty, 
with onr father on one side and Mr. Storey on the other. 

Two physicians stood near the other door. The white attenuated hand 
of niy father rested upon the two large faithful black hands, crossed, oh ! 
so silently upon the broad breast; and, as we stood quietly at the door, 
father raised his eyes, and looking at Mr. Storey, uttered in tones deep 
with emotion, words I have never forgotten. 

‘^Brother Storey, here lies the noblest man, with the truest, most loyal 
heart that ever beat, if it did beat in a black breast! faithful Plenty. 
^ Mars Wilks’ noble Plenty, good-bye! ^ Mars Will’ cannot be long be- 
hind!” And stooping his proud head he left a kiss upon the black brow. 

After all was over; after old and young, black and white, had followed 
him to his last resting place; and after Mars Jeemes Storey ” had said 
a prayer and told of his wonderful fidelity, and his pure and noble life, 
^A^onng Plenty” came and told ns all that had happened that eventful 
morning. 

He said that for the first time he had failed to go with his daddy” on 
Saturday, as Mars Jeemes” was not feeling well. So he told daddy 
to jis^ kiss mamma fur him, an’ tell her to sen’ his clean does,” and that 
morning, that never to be forgotten Monday, he was out in the ‘^gyar- 
den” when his ^daddy” driv up,” and the first intimation he had of his 
presence was the sound of his well known voice, calling : 




AND ON THxiT BED? UNCLE PLENTY ! OUR UNCLE PLENTY 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


37 


^^Here, son, cum git yon’ clean does!” 

And as he went to the paling, his father leaned over to place the bun- 
dle in his hands ; as he did so, he turned a sickly gray, and fell forward, 
the blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils. Young Plenty” called 
loudly for ^‘Mars Jeemes,” and with the help of one or two, who in passing 
heard his cries, they lifted the dying man out and carried him to Young 
Plenty’s” room. One kind neighbor rushed oft for the doctor, while 
the other remained and assisted ^A^oung Plenty” and his master in stanch- 
ing the hemorrhage. After much effort, the dying man opened his eyes, 
and murmured, ^^send for Mars Will!” 

And he lived till my father reached his side; and died with father’s 
hand in his; a heavenly smile on his lips, as he murmured faintly, and 
with his dying breath, ^‘Mars Will! 

The narrator’s voice faltered, but after a moment she resumed bravely: 

‘Yhree years later, away in the lovely land of orange groves and mag- 
nolia blossoms, where our mother was traveling with our father, he^ too, 
passed away ^Beyond the Sunrise,’ and I have always believed that the first 
to greet our father, the first to clasp his hand and exclaim in the old fa- 
miliar tones — ^^Mars Will, T’s ’joiced you’se come!’ was our dear, brave, 
noble, faithful, T^ncle Plenty.’” 

EPILOOUE. 

The story was' finished, the night was far spent; and the moon had cra- 
dled herself on the distant treetops. A gentle hush pervaded all; for 
each one seemed to see, in imagination, a lone grave away oft among the 


38 


UNCLE PLENTY. 


"old red hills of Georgia, bearing the simple name, ^^Uncle Plenty,” where- 
the same gentle moon-beams rested, and the night-birds sang; even as up- 
on the grave of ^^Mars Will,” nestling ’neath orange trees and magnolia 
flowers, in the far-off Florida-land. Yet, the consciousness was borne to 
each and every one, that in Spirit-land, those two Spirits knew and loved 
each other, as in earth life; dear, idolized ^‘Mars Will,” and his noble^ 
faithful ‘^TJncle Plenty.” 


END. 





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ir'« /. 







TRUE HEROISM; 

OR, 

“ONLY WAITING.” 


By CLARA LE CLERC. 


■“True heroism consists, not in great achievements, not in grand 
display of physical power, but in the patient, gentle and sublime 
.endurance of suffering, be "it mental or physical.” 



ILLUSTEATIONS. 


ONLY WAITING TILL THE ANGELS OPEN WIDE THE MYSTIC GATE 
^^TUMP INTO MY ARMS, DARLING.’’ 


?r 




ONLY WAITING TILL THE ANGELS OPEN WIDE THE MYSTIC GATE. 



TRUE HEROISM; 

OR, 

“ORLY WAITIRG.” 


‘‘A theme for angels when they celebrate 
The high-souled virtues, which forgetful earth 
Has witnessed ” 

I DO not believe one word of all this ! ” I always did think that 
writers, as a general rule, were accustomed to draw too vividly upon 
their imagination in depicting patience, forbearance and brave en- 
durance of both physical and mental suffering.” 

And the speaker, a tall fair girl of sixteen, with flashing blue-gray 
eyes, and hair like burnished gold, indignantly tossed the volume, which 
she had been reading, upon the table ; and rising from the depths of a 
great Sleepy Hollow ” of a chair turned towards the window. 

Time, the dull, gray twilight of a dull, gray December day ; the air 
was thick wdth icy particles, and the wind gave a low angry sough now 
and then around the house-corners. 

Place, the handsomely appointed drawing-room of an elegant private 
residence in one of our wealthiest cities. ; 

Why, Natalie, what now? What has caused that vehement out- 


44 


TRUE HEROISM ; OR, ONLY WAITING. 


break came in sweet musical tones from the depths of another huge 
arm-chair, on the opposite side of the hearth. 

‘^Oh, Annt Mernie, excuse me. I forgot that I was not alone, and so 
gave vent to one of my too frequent exhibitions of ^difference of opinion,’ 
that’s all ! ” 

And the young girl laughed lightly and thrummed a merry tune with 
her lily-fair fingers upon the heavy plate-glass window. 

^‘Let me hear what gave rise to your first words, the sentence contain- 
ing the words ^ patience, forbearance and brave endurance of both physical 
and mental suffering.’ ” And the speaker, a fair, sweet womanly wpman, 
'of perhaps twenty-five or thirty, raised her beautiful, expressive blue eyes 
to the girlish form at the window. 

Very well. Auntie dear, but I know that you will agree with me when 
you hear the extract to which I had reference.” And approaching the 
table she picked up the book she had so carelessly and scornfully cast 
aside but a few minutes before, and going nearer the waning light which 
struggled through the window, she soon found what she sought ; and read 
in a clear and impressive voice, although a touch of scorn and sarcasm 
lingered in the tones, the following words : ^ True heroism consists, not 

in great achievements, not in grand display of physical power, but in the 
patient, gentle and sublime endurance of suffering, be it mental or phys- 
ical. Many a life budding with rare promise has been crushed by an 
avalanche of suffering, caused, perhaps, by different and unlooked for 
events. For instance, a girl, young and fair, may be bodily injured, and 


TRUE heroism; OR, ONLY WAITING. 45 

be forced to. bear tlie burden of physical suffering for a life-time, be it 
long or short. Or else, friends, fortune and hope may take to themselves 
wings and fly away, leaving some poor heart crushed and bleeding. Then, 
when at first the sufferer realizes the drear future, death would be far 
preferable, but death does not always come for the asking, and thus the 
sufferer takes the harder penance and submits to live. Some broken law 
of nature has caused the terrible trial, but the spirits on the other side 
will help the bearer through ; and if that thought only plant itself in the 
mind, by their help the burden will be lightened and the true heroism of 
that nature, be it man or woman, girl or boy, will shine through the 
grand and purified chambers of the soul and irradiate the countenance, 
that true index of the mind.’ There, what did I tell you ! The idea of 
any one afflicted for life, say paralyzed, broken-backed, or perhaps minus 
an arm or leg, going through life rejoieing^ contented with 

their lot ! I do not believe that any one ever really knew of such a case ; 
they are only creatures of a fertile imagination ! ” 

And casting the book upon the broad window- seat, the girl approached 
the fire and concluded with : Do you. Aunt Mernie, do you believe any 
^uch ever existed ? ” 

‘^Yes, dear, for I once knew just such a case of physical suffering, 
where the heart and mind conquered the great waves of agony, and 
flooded with light and love the lives of all about her, and caused them to 
bless the bright sunshine of her presence, and mourn with almost break- 
ing hearts when the angels released the bright spirit from its prison house 


46 


TKUE heroism; or, only waitino. 


of suffering. I, for one, have always blessed the day I first looked upon 
her lovely face, and have felt that my life has been better and purer from 
the brief acquaintance my spirit had with hers!’’ 

And the lady folded her slender hands upon the lap of her dark rich 
dinner dress, and leaned her head upon the crimson velvet cushion of her 
chair, while a lovely smile irradiated her usually quiet features. The low 
musical voice continued softly : Sweet, patient little Hope I then almost 
a saint on earth — now I know a saint in the spirit land.” The girl’s face 
softened and brightened ; a quiver stole about the corners of the beauti- 
ful but haughty mouth ; and placing her fair hand over the two slender 
ones folded upon her aunt’s lap, her voice faltered as she eagerly ex- 
claimed : ^‘Auntie, do tell me all about her ; was she as young as I ? ” 
Yes, dear, about your age w^hen I first met her, and if you would like 
to hear the story I will tell it you, and perhaps my little girl may be 
induced to change her somewhat rash opinions as to true heroism. But 
what time is it, dear ? for I would not like for Herbert to come home 
and find me in the midst of my story, as the subject is so sacred with 
him, he very rarely mentions her name.” 

Why, Aunt Mernie 1 you do not really and truly mean that the story 
concerns Herbert?” 

^^Not exactly; but Herbert’s sister, Hope!” 

Oh, the sister I have never heard him mention but once! Please be- 
gin, Auntie; ’tis only seven o’clock, and Herbert will not be in before 
nine.” 


TRUE heroism; or, only waiting. 


47 


And drawing an ottoman to the side of her Aunt’s easy chair, Natalie 
placed herself thereon and rested her head upon the arm of the chair^ 
while her hand again sought the clasp of the slender fingers resting idly 
in the other’s lap, all unheeding their dainty work, some handsome gift 
in store for Herbert’s Christmas, 

The fire burned brightly, casting fantastic shadows here and there over 
the richly decorated room; the sharp icy particles in the air fell now and 
then with a faint tinkle upon the window pane; the wind, e’er and anon, 
gave a low, sad moan, but no other sound broke the silince, save the sad, 
sweet voice of the speaker, as it rose and fell in its narration. 

Eight years ago, my health being in a very delicate state, I was ad- 
vised by our old family physician to seek some quiet little spot on the sea 
shore. Immediately, in company with a young lady friend and my old 
nurse, I repaired to the Light House, a little village on the sea coast of a 
neighboring state. 

‘‘ Our boarding house was one of those quaint old dwellings, with time- 
stained, weather-beaten roof and moss-covered shutters; with a walk of 
fiag stones and steps of the same, one huge stone, rough, unhewn, placed 
above another of similar dimensions. 

My room was eastward, and looked out upon the broad blue sea; and 
the sea breeze fanning through the east window, whispered of health and 
strength. 

Yet this did not content me, and my kind landlady, gently stroking my 
pale cheek, suggested walks on the beach if my strength admitted. 


48 


TRUE heroism; ORy 'ONLY f waiting. 


So every morning iny coni panion and. I would take a stroll upon the 
beacli, and while there would watch the East all glowing: with the ap- 
proach of the sun’& rosy chariot, -thevwaves reflecting its brightness so 
vividly that one could scarcely * determine ^ ‘where the sky ended and the sea 
began, growing brighter, more dazzling, until the broad bright disc arose, 
as it were, from the waves and flashed forth his golden beams, tipping 
with dainty grace the many dimples chasing each other over the broad 
expanse, or darting his flery arrows athwart the white, foam-capped bil- 
lows, as they rose and fell upon ocean’s bosom. 

‘‘Thus it seemed that a new life w^as infused within me; a thrilling sen- 
sation of renewed health and vigor coursed through my veins, causing a 
quiver of intense joy to the heart, which a few weeks before had 
bethought it necessary to take a sad farewell of all earth’s beauties. My 
lips framed the words of prayer and thanksgiving which every throb of 
hat grateful heart was ever prompting. 

“ In our frequent walks we passed a small white cottage, with a pretty 
little flower garden in front. Sweet myrtle with its delicate, feathery 
cream-colored flowers waving in the fresh morning air lent its fragrance 
to us in passing, and the rich blooms of the clinging ivy hung trailing 
from the porch. 

“ Every morning a sweet, bird-like voice came to us on the perfumed 
breeze as we passed the neat white paling. We much wished to see the 
singer, the voice was so sweet, and the refrain of her song was ‘Only 
waiting till the angels open wide the mystic gate.’ ^ 


TRUE heroism; or, only waiting. 


49 


One morning as we were passing we heard the same tnnefnl voice, and 
as we were opposite, the gate, my companion caught my arm, exclaimmg : ' 

^ Look! ’ I looked in the direction she indicated, and saw emerging from. > 
one of the winding walks a garden *chair, which was drawn by a stout, fine 
looking little fellow of about thirteen or, fourteen. . . 

But the occnpant of the chair! Was there ever any one so beantifnl? • 
It was a girl of about yonr own age, but words are inade(piate to describe 
her bright, angelic beauty. Often in my mnsings do I see again th ah 
face so very fair, with its bright carnation spot upon each cheek; those 
large, speaking hazel eyes, whicli shone through their dark silken lashes; 
that nut-brown hair falling in light,' airy curls over her shoulders, and the 
pretty little gypsy hat which she carried in her hand. As the little car- ^ 
iage passed througli the gate she continued to sing that sweet but pathetic 
strain, d4nly waiting till the angels- open wide the mystic gate.’ 

“ Our morning walk was soon over, for the desire to learn the history of 
the ^beautiful unknown’ lessened our interest in all else. Hastening to our 
landlady’s room, we called for her; she came to ns presently, her kind 
honest face wearing a look of astonishment at our interruption at that 
hour. We quickly made known lo lieu our wish to know something of the 
lovely stranger. 

^^^Alas! ladies,’ said she, as she brushed a tear from her eye, ^’tis a sad 
story, but if you wish to hear it, I will tell you.’ 

^^^Do please, good Mrs. HarL’ we both cried in unison. 

Well, dears, rest yourselves there in the passage until I hnish giving f 


50 


TRUE heroism; ORj only waiting. 


out dinner, and then, if you are still in the humor to listen to the story, I 
will tell it you, though I am hut a poor hand at story-telling.’ 

Casting ourselves . upon the settee in the old hall, we waited, very im- 
patiently, I must confess, for the good lady’s story. 

She soon Joined us, and drawing up a chair, she thus began: 

‘It is now ten years since Samuel Greyson moved to this place. Hope 
was only six years old then, and her brother Herbert, three or four. 

“ ‘ Two prettier children I never saw", and as I had no children of my 
own, my heart went out to them, and found a home amid their childish 
love. They were with me a great deal. Their little baby hearts felt quite 
a warm affection for Aunt liachel^ as they loved to call me. 

“ ‘ One night, about four years after they came here, we were alarmed 
by the awful cry, lire ! 

“‘Again and again the cry rang out upon the still night air! I rushed 
to the door, and ascertained at one glance that the home of the Greyson’s 
was in flames. In a few minutes my boarders and myself were present 
at the awful scene. Hever shall I forget how the flames shot their 
forked tongues into the darkness, throwing a strange lurid glare upon 
every object! I sought the stricken family. Mr. Greyson w-as trying to 
soothe his agitated wife; at a short distance from them stood the nurse, with 
Herbert tightly clasped in her arms. I looked for Hope; I could not 
find her, and a dread suspicion shot through my heart: ‘Had they left 
the lovely girl in the burning house?’ Speaking with forced calmness, 
I turned to Mr. Greyson and asked where Hope was. ‘She is wflth nurse,’ 




JUMP INTO MY ARMS, DARLING. 


TRUE heroism; or, only waitino. 


53 


lie answered. ‘No, site is not,’ I said, pointing to where the nurse stood 
with Herbert. 

God of mercy!’ broke from his lips, in a wild agonized cry, as leav- 
ing me to support his fainting wife, he started toward the burning house. 

“‘Come back ! Gome hackP was shouted on all sides, but the father 
heeded it not. 

“ ‘Just then there arose above the roaring and crackling of the flames, a 
wild, childish shriek, which chilled the very hearts of the by-standers, 
and a small flgure, clad in white, appeared at one of the upper windows. 

“ ‘ Father^ save me 1 ’ she cried, as she stretched out her little white 
arms, imploringly. 

“ ‘ I am coming, my daughter! ’ was the answer, as he pulled his hat low 
over his eyes and rushed up the burning stairway. But the flames beat 
him back, and he came rushing out, calling for a ladder. 

“ ‘A ladder, a ladder!’ shouted twenty voices; and when it w^as brought, 
the father exclaimed in husky tones: 

“ ‘There, against that window! quick ^ or it will be too late!’ 

“ ‘Alas! The father sprang up the ladder, and reached out his arms to 
his child, exclaiming: 

“ ‘ Jump into my arms, darling!’ 

“ ‘ As the child made the spring there was a crash ^ and a loud shriek 
added horror to the scene’ as father and daughter both disappeared! 

“ ‘It was with difSculty we prevented Mrs. Grey son from springing into 
the burning heap after her husband and child. But brave men were at 


54 


TRUE heroism; or, only waiting. 

work, and soon 'a cry of sadness broke' upon the air. Father and daugh- 
ter were found locked in each other’s arms. 

^^^God pity her.’ for they Voth dead,’ said a rough looking man, as 
he drew his coat sleeve hastily across his eyes. They took them np, father 
and child, very tenderly, and carried them some distance from the flames. 
A physician soon came, and naught was left undone. After an hour of 
unceasing trials of skill, Mr. Greyson looked aronnd on ns all, saw his 
weeping wife bending over him, and a faint smile crossed his lips as he 
murmured brokenly : ^My wife, God bless yon, take care of Hope and 
Herbert.’ And with the smile resting on his lips he passed into the 
^Bright Beyond.’ 

Ht was a long time before Hope gave . any sign of life; but at length 
there was a quivering of the long lashes, and opening her eyes, she faint- 
ly whispered: ^Father!’ I had them all brought here. Mr. Greyson 
was buried two days later. 

uiFor months Hope lingered upon the brink of death’s river; but at the 
termination of four months she could sit in bed, bolstered np with pil- 
lows. But, alas! she was lamed for life; the poor girl has not walked one 
step since the night of the Are, six years ago! Sometimes she has fearful 
paroxysms; it would make yon weep to witness her suffering ; but 
throngh it all she is cheerful and happy. She is always busy, when al)le 
to sit np, doing something for the good of others. Nearly every little 
child in the village has to thank Hope for the nice, warm stockings and 
little knit sacqnes and comforters, which they wear during the winter ; 


55 


TRUE heroism; or, okLy WaitikO. 

U ■ : ■ ' . - . ■ , f , 

and their dainty lace hib's and their jaiinty straw hats ' which they sjiort 
in the summer. She is' never so happy as when' working foP di'er 
children^ as slie expresses it; arid her mother looks oii and sriiiles' approval 
at the doings of her idolized ciiild.’ ‘ ' ‘ ' '' 

^ Their present pretty little' home, the j^est,’ was built by Mrs. 

Greyson’s brother, upon the same spot where the old mansion stood. ^ 

^ I fear that Hope will leave ns with tlie sriirimer flowers, as she is 
growing very weak. 

^ Bnt I’ll declare! if I ainT crying P exclaimed the good old lady,' as she 
pressed her hand to her eyes. ^And so am I,’ I whispered through my 
tears; and as the old lady glanced at the tear-filled eyes of my companion, 
she said: . 

^ And yon, too — one woman and two girls crying! Well, I never speak 
of that night without tears!’ continued kind Mrs. Hart, as she left ns to 
ponder the sad and touching story. 

Day after day we heard that flnte-like voice, as we took onr walk, and 
often enconntered the little carriage; and by and by I gathered courage 
to speak to her at onr meetings. How we enjoyed onr morning talks 
with the gentle sufferer! How like an angel she seemed to us, as we 
listened to her simple, loving words! I always felt better, pnrifled as it 
were, after a few minutes spent in her presence; and I was flrmly con- 
vinced that the heroism she exhibited in bearing her suffering was almost 
without a parallel. 

What hero upon the battle-fleld or elsewhere, ever had, or ever could - 


:56 


TRUE heroism; or, only waiting. 


:show to the world the fortitude and brave, cheerful, enduring spirit that 
this frail sufferer exhibited during each hour of her life? 

One morning, as we took our accustomed walk, we did not see the little 
carriage, nor hear the sweet, pathetic voice. Morning after morning 
passed. How we missed the gentle singer! Everything seemed so quiet, 
I almost held my breath as we neared the house. About a week after- 
wards, as we were passing, we saw, floating from the door-knob, a piece 
•of white crape^ knotted together by a broad band of white ribbon and 
flowers! ^Some one is dead!’ tremblingly whispered my companion. 
Yes, some one was dead! For two days the crape and ribbon fluttered 
in the perfumed breeze. On the third morning, just as the sun was 
•climbing the distant hill-tops and casting his broad beams sea-ward, the 
air vocal with bird-warblings, and fragrant with the perfume of sweet 
myrtle, we approached the house on our way to the strands. A sad, yet 
beautiful procession, was moving slowly down the myrtle-bordered walk. 

First eight maidens in purest white, with a wreath of flowers hanging 
on the left arm, walked beside a coffin covered with a snow-white pall, 
over which the myrtle drooped as they passed, and showered upon it a 
fragrant offering of cream-colored leaves. 

“ Then came the brother, but the bright boyish face was clouded with 
grief; and tears coursed down his cheeks as he looked upon that dark- 
robed flgure leaning upon his arm. Ah, she was a widow and he her 
only child now. As the procession, followed by many friends, wound 
through the gate and took the obscure path to the burial ground, the 


TRUE heroism; or, only waitino. 


57 


sweet and favorite song of the young girl was chanted, rather than sung, 
by her pall-bearers, ‘Only waiting till the angels open wide the mys- 
tic gates.’ 

“ But oh ! that gentle voice was stilled in death ; the long lashes rested 
on the marble-like cheeks; and her waxen hands were folded over a pulse- 
less breast. 

“We, too, joined the mournful procession, listened to the voices of the 
youthful chanters as they rose on the fresh morning air in the words, 
never to be forgotten : 

‘ Only waiting till the angels open wide the mystic gates, 

By whose side I’ve long been waiting.’ 

“ Broken, now and then, by a low shuddering sob from the bereaved 
mother. 

I brushed the glistening drops from my own eyes and murmured : 

“ ‘Weep not, dear mother, the angels have only opened wide the mys- 
tic gates, and let your darling in.’ ” 

The. speaker paused, and a deep hush pervaded the room for some 
time. But after a while, a low, sweet voice, all scorn and sarcasm ban- 
ished from its tones, broke -the silence : 

“Thank you, dear Aunt Mernie, I have learned such a beautiful lesson 
tonight. Never again will I doubt that unto the stricken one can cour- 
age be given to bear all suffering nobly, and uncomplainingly, provided 
we do our part truly and conscientiously.” 

Then later, after gazing intently upon the bright flames leaping up 


58 


TRUE heuoisM; or; okuy wAitm^. 


tlie cliimriey, while the sweet expression still lingered ‘ orer the young 
face, And Heirbert, Auntie?^’- ' ' ■ ; 

Ah, yes, dear, you were such a wee thing then! The devoted moth- 
er lingered only a few mOiithsaffdr Hope loft her, 'and * then the- angels ' 
opened wide the mystic ‘gates for libr '; and Herbert was all alone, for' his '' 
uncle died the year before I met them, and strange to say, Herbert had 
become quite attached to me and chose me as his ^tardian. I' feel quite 
ancient now and then, with a brave laddie of aliiiost twenty-oiie, and a 
bright lassie of sixteen, calling me now, dittle mamma,’ and again 
^Auntie.’ But, hark! Hattie dear, isn’t that Herbert’s step? Run and 
let him in f I know the dear boy is almost frozen — how rosy the lily 
face always grows at the sound of his footstep ! 

Ah, well, in a few years more who knows what may happen ? ” 

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I 


“PHIL.” 

> ' ' . I , 

By CLARA LE CLERC. 


I had no idea there was a child on the place — detestable creatures !” 




\ 


ILLUSTE ATIONS. 

.» ; 


THE ^^INCORRIGIBLE PHIL.” OF WALTER THORNTOn’i 
MISS PHILLIPPA BENTLEY. 


IMAGINATION^ 




THE ‘^INCORRIGIBLE PHIl’’ OF WALTER THORNTON’s 

IMAGINATION. 


\ 


‘‘PH IV’ 


N umber one hundred and seventy-five. Swallows’ Rest, sir!”" 
And the driver opened the door of the carriage as he spoke. 
Humph! here at last, are we? My poor head could not have 
borne these rough streets much longer,” muttered the occupant of tho 
vehicle, as he gathered up a shawl, small portmanteau and several period- 
icals, and stepped upon the stone pavement. 

Bring my trunk as far as the balcony, driver, as I see no one stirring 
about the place,” continued the gentleman, as he passed through the low, 
iron gate, which closed with a dull clang, and slowly passed up the neatly 
graveled w^alk. 

As the gate closed with its grating sound, signs of life appeared in the 
house: the hall door was thrown open, and a tall robust woman of about 
forty-five, appeared on the balcony and stood waiting the approach of 
the gentleman, who seemed in no way to hurry his languid movements. 

In person, the gentleman was tall and slender, too slender for perfec- 
tion of form or good health, face extremely pale, hair and eyes a deep 
brown, while a heavy mustache of the same hue shaded a mouth as deli - 
cate and sensative as a woman’s. 

^^Glad to see you, sir; Mr. Thornton, I suppose! ” exclaimed the ladjr 


64 


PHIL. 


(( 


?? 


in a cheerful voice, as slie extended her hand and shook the long, slender 
white lingers vigorously. Hope I see you improving, as you wrote 
that you had been suffering from a severe illness, and wished a quiet 
place in which to grow strong again. Well, right here you have it, sir! 
Wallv in.’’ .And the stout lady grasped the portmanteau with one large, 
finmhand, and the sh^wl with the other. 

Come into the sitting room, and rest; you look completely worn out. 
Phil ! Where is Phil now, I wonder? Never by when wanted, of course. 
P-h-i-1 1 ” Again, louder and clearer than before. Still no answer to the 
summons. 

Here, rest in this large easy-chair, while I bring you a glass of cool 
water. Here comes Phil — no, it’s Hannah. Where has Phil made oft 
to this morning, Hannah? Just let a whisper of a new boarder get 
wafted around on the breeze, and Phil’s off like a shot. Bring this gen- 
tleman a glass of cool water, and then tell John to carry his trunk and 
• other articles pp into the east room.” 

After a short rest in the cheerful sitting-room, Mrs. Meadows conduct- 
ed her new boarder up to the pleasant east room, where, after looking 
around carefully to see that everything was in order, she turned to leave 
the room, enjoining it upon him to ring for anything he should need, and 
•closed with — 

^Hf Phil’s racket and jumping up and down stairs trouble you, just 
let me know, and I ’ll try to stop it; but then I can’t exactly promise for 
true, for when Phil gets a stubborn f fit on, all the world could not stop it 


PHIL. 


65 


6i 




until it runs its course!’’ and with that she closed the door and left Wal- 
ter Thornton to repose. 

“ Well, I ’ll show the youngster whether I ’ll have him jumping up and 
down stairs, and distracting my poor, aching head. I had no idea there 
was a child on the place — detestable creatures! If I had known it, ^Mrs 
Meadow’s private boarding house, for invalids especiaily,’ would never 
have registered Walter Thornton as one of its inmates ! ” And with that 
he crossed over to a neat, white lounge near the large east window, and 
settled his aching head upon its inviting pillows. 

“This is pleasant, anyhow; I shall rest a while, then take a bath and 
feel like a new man.” 

By and by the white lids, with their deep, brown fringes, closed over 
the aching eyes, and Walter w^as just losing himself, his aches and his 
pains in a gentle slumber, when slam ! went a door on the same side of 
the hall as his own room, and thump, hop, bump ! went some object 
through the hall and down the stair steps. 

“ Merciful heavens ! What wild animal was that ? My poor head ! 
What a jar that was to my whole nervous system ! ” 

And Walter Thornton started up, pressed his pale, thin hands to his 
throbbing temples, and gazed distractedly around. Then his ear caught 
the sound of two voices, — one in angry and earnest remonstrance, the 
other in sullen defiance. 

“ I don’t care ! let him take his aches and pains elsewhere. I reckon a 
body has got a right to do as they please in their own house ! ” 


66 


PHIL. 


U 


?? 


And with that he heard another door slam, and a merry voice whist- 
ling, Thine eyes like the stars that are beaming.'’ 

After a while the voice grew fainter, and young Thornton lay there, 
thinking. 

“ With all his rowdyism the boy loves music, for no one could wliistle 
like that without possessing a musical soul.” 

Tea-time came, but Mr. Thornton, feeling too weak and weary to leave 
his room, sent word by the neat servant girl that he would be pleased to 
take his tea in his own room. 

A pair of violet-hued eyes, which had been watching the door so 
eagerly, veiled a disappointed expression beneath their silky lashes, as a 
little form sprang up and arranged a dainty little tea-service containing 
a tempting repast upon a silver salver, and bade the waiting girl carry it 
up to the sick gentleman, with the hope that the tea would ease his 
aching head. 

Hannah placed the salver upon the light stand, which she wheeled to 
the lounge, and stood respectfully by, awaiting further orders. 

How tempting it all looks ! but I think this cup of tea wull do me 
more good than all the rest.” 

And with this remark he raised the dainty china cup to his lips and 
quaffed quite a portion of the aromatic beverage. 

‘^Good heavens ! ” and the cup fell with a crash, breaking into innu- 
merable fragments, and Walter Thornton puffed and sputtered fearfully 
for the space of three minutes. 


PHIL. 


67 


a 


)? 


‘‘ Water, girl, water, — quick ! ” 

And Hannah almost flew to the stand, and hastily returned with a gob- 
let of water. 

^AVho prepared my tea?” and Walter Thornton gazed sternly into 
tlie alarmed and perplexed face of the astonished girl. Who prepared 
this tea, I say ? It was salted instead of sweetened, and I wish to know 
if it was done purposely.” 

‘‘ (), sir, it must have been Mrs. Meadow’s Phil; no one else would have 
dared do such a thing. How I remember a message was sent with the 
supper, — ‘ the hope that the tea would ease your aching head.’ O, sir,. 
Mrs. Meadows will be so sorry.” 

And Hannah stood tremblingly by as if she, indeed, were the culprit. 

Remove these things, and request your mistress to come here.” 

Poor Mrs. Meadows! how distressed she vras. And how humbly she* 
promised that in the future she would arrange the tea with her own 
hands. 

“ Though Phil can do so much better in such things than I can, but 
it's just like some of Phil’s wild pranks. Let this stubborn fit wear off,, 
Mr. Thornton, and then the house will be quiet, I can assure you. These* 
spells never last very long, not more than a week, anyway.” 

^‘A week ! Merciful Heaven ! Can I stand this a week? Send the in- 
corrigible Phil oft.” 

Send Phil off ? Why, the house and everything in it is Phil’s, and I 
am only aunt and housekeeper. And then, too^ school will soon close. 


68 


PHIL. 


(C 




and Phil could not miss the examination on any account. I am sorry, 
sir, very sorry; and 1 shall do all I can to procare quiet for you.” 

a Yery well, madam, if I am not left in peace from now until tomor- 
row morning, I shall certainly look out for another boarding-place, where 
no noisy Phils are to be found.” 

And politely waving his hand toward the door, he dismissed the 
landlady with a short good-night; but ere the door closed after her ample 
form, he heard a smothered laugh, and then Mrs. Meadows’ voice, stern 
and rebuking, — ‘^How could you, Phil? Poor young man; and he so sick 
and nervous too. It is a crying shame!” 

^^Well, cry then, I shall not; ” and then the owner of the voice seemed 
to hop on one foot the length of the hall, and again slam went a door and 
all was still. But for how long? 

Five, ten minutes, and with a muttered ejaculation of relief, Walter 
Thornton sank back upon his pillows, clasped his hands over his aching 
head, and tried to woo sleep and rest once more. But no, — the burning 
lids refused to close over the weary, aching eyes; his temples throbbed, 
and his whole body seemed filled with aches and shooting pains. 

‘^Oh, I wish I had remained in the city; the journey and worry I have 
been through to-day will, I fear, cause a relapse. Ah, what was that ? 
There it is again 1 ” 

And this time there was no doubt as to what the sound was. The loud 
scrape, scrape of the bow across a violin, and the twang of the strings as 
some one made ready this new instrument of torture. 


PHIL. 


69 


a 




fiddle, by the gods ! Surely,, surely I am possessed of a devil. 
moaned the young man as the lively notes of Money Musk,” Old Mollie 
Hare,” and various and sundry other airs, all mingled into one grand (?) 
medley, racked his tortured brain. In vain he rang his bell, in vain he 
pounded on the wall; nothing could be heard above the harsh notes of the 
violin. Louder, faster, now up, now down, Arkansas Traveler” with 
the rest. 

At length the maddened brain and throbbing, quivering nerves could 
bear no more. Rising from his couch and staggering blindly towards 
the door, he threw it open and attempted to call for help. He tottered, 
threw out his hands wildly to save himself from falling; but all in vain; 
he swayed to and fro like a drunken man, shivered as with an ague, and 
fell, striking his head against the sharp facing of the door. The blood 
gushed from the wound and from his nose, and he lay like one dead, — 
as the inmates, roused by his fall, hastened to his assistance. 

Tears fell like rain from one pair of eyes, and two small hands were 
wrung in grief and self-reproach, as a voice choked with sobs cried out, — 
O, Auntie Meado^vs, your Phil has killed him! I have killed him^ 
and all with my ungovernable temper and insufferable obstinacy. Go for 
a physician, quick, John!” 

The voice was commanding, and brooked of no delay. 

Phil passed both hands beneath the sufferer’s head, and assisted Auntie 
Meadows, J ane and Hannah in placing him on the bed. 

Go to your room, Phil. I hope you are satisfied with this one day’s 


70 


PHII.. 


u 


?? 


mischief, ’’ said Mrs. Meadows sternly, as she sponged the matted hair 
from the broad, white brow, all covered with crimson stains. 

Oh, let me stay, only let me stay till the doctor comes! I ’ll — I ’ll 
be so quiet; and if I go to my room all alone, I shall see his white face 
and poor, bleeding head, all night; do let me stay ?” 

Yon poor, silly child, I don’t believe you are half so mean as you pre- 
tend; you only act so for contrariness. Here, hold this bowl of ice water 
for me, while I sponge his hands. There, he seems to be recovering. Ah, 
and how do you feel, sir?” 

'AYhere am I? Who is this?” 

He gazed into one beautiful face bent so pityingly aboA^e him. Tears 
swam in Auolet-hued eyes, and lovely flossy tresses were scattered over a 
snowy muslin. 

Ah, this must be heaven, and this my guardian angel come to protect 
me from that awful, incorrigible Phil.” 

With that the guardian angel ” blushed celestial rosy red, cast down 
the starry eyes, and beat a hasty retreat toward tlie door, wliere she met 
the old family physician just entering. 

Two hours later, as the white-haired old gentleman closed the door 
noislessly beliind him, and started to cross the hall, a small flgure crouch- 
ing in the dusky shadows rose up, and, placing a cold and trembling hand 
upon the doctor’s arm, whispered, brokenly, — 

^‘-O, Dr. Strong, Avill he die? I did it all! It has been one of my 
wicked days, and I have behaved so badly?” 


71 


PHIL.’’ 

liHsli! my child. The young gentleman is very ill, I’ll admit, 
but if you will only be good and quiet we shall pull him through all right, 
never fear. He was not strong enough to travel in the first place, and 
the noise and bustle of the journey had a tendency to shake his nervous 
system, which greatly needs strengthening. He has been doing too much 
mental work of some description, and the journey, your racket, and salted 
tea, have done the rest; let us hope that your Saul’s day is over just at 
present, and that you will be good and quiet, and help Auntie nurse our 
patient well and strong again.” 

And with that the little figure vanished amid the shadows of the hall, 
and the old doctor carefully descended the stairs, giving utterance to 
several emphatic ‘^humphs !” while on his way down. 

Phil’s word is as good as a bond.” How often Mrs. Meadows had 
repeated that expression since she had been Phil’s housekeeper. So 
wlien Phil had told her with penitent tears that “Saul’s spirit” was ex- 
orcised, Mrs. Meadows knew she had nothing more to fear. 

For two long weeks Walter Thornton lay upon his bed, often having 
visions of a golden-liaired, violet-eyed fairy, or angel, he could not de- 
cide which. And by and by he began to wait and watch for his gentle 
nurse, and fret if he did not find her. Another circumstance he also 
began to notice, that after he was pronounced out of danger the tiny 
form no longer hovered over his pillow during the day, but after the 
shaded lamp was lighted, the blinds closed for the night, a soft rustle, no 
one else could have detected it, but Walter’s perceptions were very quick 


72 PHIL.’’ 

where his little nnrse was concerned, a hand fair and soft as a snow-flake 
would rest for a moment upon his brown curls, as a voice tremulous 
with feeling would question, — 

Are you really better tonight ?” 

And often through the still hours would he wake to And that gentle 
nurse with some cooling beverage ready for him, and after drinking from 
the cup held by that small hand, the head would be gently placed upon 
the pillow, the lamp moved to a distant nook, lest some gleam of light 
should disturb the invalid, and while Jane or Hannah slumbered in the 
huge arm-chair, the night would pass away. 

Days passed, and Walter Thornton was moved from the bed to the 
lounge. Dr. Strong pronounced that he would be able to leave his room 
in a day or two. 

During all these days no mention had been made of ^^that incorrigi-^ 
ble Phil,” but Walter did not doubt but that he had been banished from 
the house during his alarming illness, and feared and dreaded now each 
day to hear the old slam of doors, and the hop, thump, bump, upon the; 
stairs. 

If ever I do lay my eyes on that youngster, I shall take him to task 
as the sole cause of all my sufferings. But if I had not suffered, per- 
haps I should never have known her, my little violet-eyed darling I 
And to think I have never found out her name in all this time. But I 
will ask her tonight. She knows my name, for once when I was so very 
sick, and quite unconscious, as they all thought, that little one knelt 


PHIL. 


73^ 


u 




here alone by my bed, and clasping my hands, bedewed them with her 
tears as she murmured: ^O, Walter, Walter! do not die ! Oh, if yon 
should die ! my poor, poor Walter !’ Oh, how my heart thrills at the re- 
membrance of those precious words, my bonny, blue-eyed darling 

A knock at the door, and Hannah entered with, — 

Mrs. Meadows’ compliments, sir, and here are some tickets- for the* 
college exercises, and do you think you can venture out ? The gradua- 
ting exercises will come off the twenty-first, and this is the nineteenth.’^ 

‘‘Well, really, I can’t say. I will talk to Mrs. Meadows and the* 
young lady about it.” 

“ But, please, sir, Mrs. Meadows said as how all the young ladies were* 
so busy preparing for the grand night, that our young miss could not be 
spared from rehearsal tonight, and ’t was young miss sent these with her* 
best wishes that you would try to be present.” 

“Eeturn my thanks to both ladies, and tell them I will try to go out.”' 

The next morning he made his way slowly down the stairs, and found 
Hannah at the foot, just starting up with his breakfast. 

“Ho, Hannah, I shall try to take my meals with the family today and 
tomorrow, so that I may be able to go out tomorrow night.” 

“ Yery well, sir,” and Hannah then opened a door on the left of the* 
hall, and announced, — 

“ Mr. Thornton, ma’am.” 

Kind Mrs. Meadows arose, and bustled about to insure the comfort of 
her invalid. A pair of bright, starry eyes were raised to his for one mo- 


74 


PHIL. 


U 


?? 


ment, and a gentle voice bade liim good morning in a very demure and 
lady-like manner, while the owner of said eyes and voice completed the 
folding of the napkin, slipped it tlirough its massive silver ring, and 
then, with a gentle inclination of the golden-tressed head, quietly left the 
room. 

Poor Thornton ! All his visions of a heavenly banquet, with his blue- 
eyed angel opposite, vanished, as Hannah and Mrs. Meadows both bustled 
about the table intent upon making a comfortable breakfast for their 
patient. 

'' Xow, Mr. Thornton, if you don't eat more than that you will not be 
able to go out tomorrow night to hear the, young ladies read and sing. 
.Now Phil has even gone so far as to hire a carriage, though ’tis only a 
;step from here to the college, but Phil said ” — 

Excuse me, Mrs. Meadows, I wish to hear of no remarks made by 
that incorrigible Phil ! ’’ 

And with that, Walter Thornton pushed back his plate with its dainty, 
almost untouched breakfast, and stalked, with all the dignity his weak 
limbs possessed, out of the dining-room, through the hall, and slowly 
climbed the stairs to his own room, wdiich he did not leave again that 
day. 

If the truth must be told, he was afraid of meeting that awful Phil, 
and, in his weak state, he felt that the very sight of the boy would cause 
him to relapse. So there he remained, lolling upon the lounge. Once 
he took a book from the table, one from which she had been reading 


PHIL. 


75 


a 




•aloud to liim only three evenings ago. How his fingers lingered over 
the pages which her rosy palms had kissed. Dear, sweet voice, how I 
wish I could hear you now,’Mie murmured, as he pressed the book to his 
lips. In doing this, the leaves fiuttered apart at the title-page, and 
there, in a clear, round hand, he saw written Phil Bentley.” 

Down went the book with this disgusted comment : — 

Pshaw ! That great lubberly boy’s property ! I wonder what he 
does with a book like this ? Mrs. Browning, indeed ! l^ever read a line 
in it. I’ll wager ; better Headless Horseman^ Osceola^ or some blood-and- 
thunder story, to suit his royal highness.” 

The vast hall was all ablaze with light and beauty, and delicate per- 
fumes were wafted hither and thither, as dresses were adjusted, heads 
turned, or fans fiuttered. Mrs. Meadows conducted our invalid to a re- 
served seat, not very far from the rostrum, and very near to an open 
window, through which came the fresh night breeze. 

Phil had these reserved for us,” she whispered in an enei*getic man- 
ner, as she settled her ample skirts around her, and unfurled her fan. 

But Walter did not heed her ; his eyes were riveted upon the stage ; 
and there liis hungry heart and eyes found food sufficient in feasting 
upon that sweet face, so much fairer, so much more beautiful than all 
others. 

Tlie exercises opened, and all attention was directed toward the per- 
foriner^. Where was his programme ? One was handed him as he 
entered, but now he could not find it. Misplaced, of course. Should he 


76 


PHIL. 


a 


?> 


ask Mrs. Meadows for hers ? No, he would not appear so anxious ; wait 
and see. But if he only had a programme ! 

At last his patience could endure no more, and^ turning,, he asked Mrs. 
Meadows for her programme, only for a moment.” 

‘‘La, I am sorry, but I dropped mine only a few steps back, and did 
not like to trouble you to pick it up. Now, I know all of the girls, and 
can tell you their names, for our Phil says ” — 

“ Excuse me, Mrs. Meadows, I will not trouble you, and, besides, we- 
are interrupting the exercises.” 

Five, six, seven young ladies had been called forward, and each one* 
had merited much praise, both in composition and manner in which it 
had been delivered, and still his dainty darling remained at her place. 
How like a veritable angel she looked to love’s eyes this evening. 

A cloud-like dress floated about the fairy form ; pearls gleamed amid 
the golden, flossy tresses about the delicate, snowy throat and upon the* 
fair, rounded arms. A simple cluster of pure, fragrant violets and moss 
buds nestled amid the foamy lace at the bosom, held in place by a glitter- 
ing diamond star. 

At last , — The History of a Womari^s Hearty by Miss Phillippa Bent- 
ley, — and the fairy form arose, clasping the fair, white pages of her essay 
in the daintily kidded hands. 

Breathlessly Walter Thornton watched every movement, caught every 
word that fell from those rosy lips, and all the while “ Phil, Phil,. 
Phillippa Bentley, — ye gods ! what a fool I have been I ” kept pumping^ 




MISS PHILLIPPA BENTLEY. 





PHIL. 


77 


a 


?? 


and jumping through his excited brain at such a fearful rate that he was 
fearful of a relapse then and there, for he had at last met that incorri- 
gible Phil ” face to face. How her clear, flute-like voice rose and fell. 
Ailing the vast hall as with sweetest music. 

Hot a sound broke the stillness. His eyes could not turn from that 
fair, sweet face ; and, as the last words died away, and with a graceful 
bow she turned to resume her place with her classmates, such a storm of 
bouquets fell upon the stage that the fair girl seemed crowned with fra- 
grant offerings. 

Mechanically he unfastened the tiny cluster of violets and moss buds 

that graced his evening suit, and cast his tiny offering with the rest. 

She stooped, gathered that fragrant heart -gift from amid the gorgeous 

clusters about her, raised it gently to her lips, and, without raising those 

violet eyes, now humid with pearly drops, she resumed her place. Once 

again, and only once, she appeared and sang. Ah ! where had he heard 

that sweet air before ? 

Thine eyes, like the stars that are beaming, 

Have entered the depths of my soul.” 

Ah, Walter, you could have sworn that the sweet eyes met your ardent, 
impassioned gaze for one heavenly second, and then the song continued 
to its close. 

He felt that be could not remain there much longer, and as soon as the 
venerable, noble-looking president had conferred the degrees and also the 
first honor of the class, the handsome gold medal accompanying the 


78 


PHIL.” 

diploma, upon Phillippa Bentley,” with a muttered apology to Mrs.. 
Meadows, of which she could only distinguish the words, heat, faint,, 
home,” he hastily left the hall. 

He reached the house, entered the dimly lighted sitting-room, and 
threw himself into an easy-chair concealed within the bay-window, and 
gave himself up to thoughts ; strange, tuinultuous, they crowded upon 
his mind. 

By and by lie heard voices, Mrs. Meadows and the one he loved so- 
well. Again the voice of Mrs. Meadows, as they stepped upon tlie 
balcony. 

^^He has gone to his room, I reckon. Poor fellow ! the heat and ex- 
ertion of going out prov^ed too much for him. Go into the sitting-room, 
Pliil, and I’ll have Hannah bring in some iced lemonade and cake ; and 
also send some up to Mr. Thornton’s room.” 

The door opened, a form in misty white draperies boated ihto the 
room and approached the window, in the shadow of which reclined our 
poor, distracted Walter Thornton. 

‘H am glad it is all over,” murmured the sweet voice. ‘H wonder how 
he liked it ? My precious Walter ! ” 

“ O, Phil, darling ! how could you ? ” And ere she knew it, two arms 
were about the shadowy white dress, clasping the tiny form which it in- 
closed. For one delicious moment he held her thus, then the little form 
drew away modestly, and the sweet voice said : — 

“ How could I do what ? ” ^ 


“ PHIL.’.’ • 79 ' 

‘^Why, deceive me so.” 

Deceive you so ! Pray explain yourself.” 

Why, I — I — the fact is, I thought all this time that Phil was some- 
great, half -grown hoy, and I have been treasuring up such a terrible- 
reckoning with him. And to know that my precious little nurse, my 
violet-eyed darling, and Phil are one — ’tis something almost incredible !” 

^‘Are yon sorry ? ” and the sweet mouth quivered like a child’s. so 
feared you would never like me, and when you spoke so often of that 
^ awful, incorrigible Phil,’ and called me your ^ guardian angel,’ I begged 
Auntie Meadows never to mention the hated name in your presence. Oh,, 
can you forgive me ? I was so hateful ! I saw you coming up the walk 
that first morning, so pale, so languid, and you raised your dear, brown 
eyes just one moment, — but ah, they entered my soul. But I vowed 
you should never know ; and then I let Saul have full possession of me 
that day ; but ah, never, no, never again, shall Saul possess me, for I 
have found my David to exorcise the evil spirit and keep it away. 

And two trembling little hands were placed upon his arm, and two 
rose-bud lips, with their childish quiver, were raised to his. 

What could he do ? 

What he did do was this : — 

The little hands were unclasped from his arm, and clasped about his 
neck, while his arms held her closely to his fast-throbbing, happy heart ; 
and his lips kissed the quiver aw^ay from the twin rose-buds, as he mur- 
mured, — 


^80 

^ My Phil, my darling,^ you are all I want ; my owm, now and forever.’’ 
And thus Mrs. Meadow^s found them as she hustled in with, — 

Phil, Mr. Thornton is not in his room. I fear he was not able to 
Teach the house. I — 0-h ! ” 

What a prolonged ^^Oh ! ” it was, to be sure. And Walter Thornton 
threw back his haughty head and laughed such a clear, mellow, happy 
laugh, to which that incorrigible Phil” joined her flute -like, merry 





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